


Lion's Shadow

by AngeNoir



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werecreatures, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Kíli Feels, M/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-18
Updated: 2014-05-18
Packaged: 2018-01-25 13:27:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1650257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngeNoir/pseuds/AngeNoir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He knew all these legends, knew that his people knew all these legends, and so he made a choice. Fili would be confirmed as heir, and Kili would never join his brother in those classes so that it would not look like Thorin was teaching Kili statecraft. If the worst came to happen – Mahal, but he hoped not – Kili would have to step up to the throne (and Thorin would cross that bridge if it ever came), but for now, they had a golden cub to place their hopes in, and with any luck Fili’s feats and accomplishments would eclipse the fact that his brother was a dark shadow who padded behind Fili like a specter of old.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lion's Shadow

**Author's Note:**

> This is half-born out of my own headcanons and confirmed by kinkmeme prompts - there are many along the lines of Kili as the 'spare' and such, but the three in particular I had in mind when I conceived of this plot are [these](http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/9471.html?thread=20918527#t20918527) [three](http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/9471.html?thread=20735231#t20735231) [here](http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/9471.html?thread=20612607#t20612607).
> 
> Special thanks to the wonderful [Starkindler](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Starkindler/works), who made the banner for this story! You can find a direct link to the art [here](http://www.sylumclan.com/Grissom/Wordpress/?p=540).
> 
> Also I'm supposed to post this at the hobbitstory livejournal, but I've not been able to figure that part out yet, so... this will be up there sometime soon, I hope?

Shapeshifting was the magical mark of dwarrows, and the talent normally followed the ‘strong blood’ – and what blood was stronger in Erebor than that of the royal family? The royals were all lions, all symbols of the strength of the line of Durin, all the way back to the first saber-toothed ancestral lion, Durin the Deathless. Dwalin, cousin to the royal family, was a tiger, as was his elder brother, and part of the reason they were removed from succession was the loss of the blood strength that led to the dilution of the lion blood. Thorin’s training group of old, before the fall of Erebor, were all cats. Most were tigers, powerful and an indication of a royal bastard somewhere in their distant past, and if Thorin looked down upon the others, the jaguars and leopards, if the lynxes and cheetahs and servals were never chosen to serve in Thorin’s guard, let alone Frerin’s or Dis’s, well. One could hardly expect the lower cats to really do as much damage and be as powerful as the larger cats.

When Dis gave birth to Fili, years after they were cast out of Erebor, the dwarves had cause to celebrate, because Fili’s hair was as golden as the hair of the lost prince Frerin, as golden as the hair of Thrain the First. Though the dwarves were not many, and lived on the sufferance of their cousins in the Blue Mountains, Thorin declared the day to be a celebration, a ray of hope. Dain the Second, Dain Ironfoot, sent an envoy with fatted calves for a feast and a recognition of Fili, son of Dis and Vili, heir to the throne of Erebor, descendent of the fierce lion tribe. It was a promise of better things to come, and it was Fili’s birth that pulled Thorin out of his dark spiral and bent his mind on reclaiming and reinstating his people in Erebor. The celebration on the day that Fili transformed into a lion cub put Fili’s birth celebration to shame, and Thorin began talking to remnants of the royal guard groups, bringing up the idea of reclaiming Erebor so their young lion would have a proper throne to sit upon when his time to rule came forth.

All this, of course, changed with Kili.

Thorin had never questioned the easy way which the royals and nobles of their race dismissed the lower cats. Jaguars, leopards, and cougars were barely tolerable, and commoners were the weaker cats. Tigers and lions ruled Erebor, and the rarity of their breed dictated who was the aristocratic upper class, the middle class of warriors and artisans, and the lower class of miners and service workers. It was the way their society was ordered and he never questioned it.

Dis’s chosen husband, a lower-class dwarf from the Blue Mountains – and all their kin in the Blue Mountains were wolves and foxes and coyotes, with their own hierarchy – was the one who discovered what Kili was, though he did not seem to understand what that meant in terms of hierarchy. He had been taking the tiny babe out with him to hunt, and came back to the campsite to find that Kili was nowhere to be found. After a bit of frantic searching, he found a tiny cub, curled up underneath the picnic blanket.

A _panther_ cub.

Panthers were, in general, viewed with suspicion. They were not a real type of cat, merely leopards with black pigmentation. Thorin knew the legends of old, the ones that spoke of black cats being omens of destruction, of the black-coated big cats becoming servants of the Dark One.

He knew all these legends, knew that his _people_ knew all these legends, and so he made a choice. Fili would be confirmed as heir, and Kili would never join his brother in those classes so that it would not look like Thorin was teaching Kili statecraft. If the worst came to happen – Mahal, but he hoped not – Kili would have to step up to the throne (and Thorin would cross that bridge if it ever came), but for now, they had a golden cub to place their hopes in, and with any luck Fili’s feats and accomplishments would eclipse the fact that his brother was a dark shadow who padded behind Fili like a specter of old.

* * *

 

 

Kili grew up knowing, deep down in his bones, that not a lot of people liked him. It never bothered him much, to know he was the ‘extra,’ the insurance if Fili died, even if everyone would _really_ rather Fili not die. But none of that knowledge ever really bothered him, either – Dwalin would teach Fili and Fili’s year-mates in the morning, and Balin would teach him in the afternoon the matters of state and ruling. Dwalin would teach _Kili_ in the afternoon, in the hills at the base of the Blue Mountains, and Balin would come to Dis’s house early in the morning to give Kili his lessons. Kili grew up separate from Fili – well, as separate as two dwarrows could be when they shared the same room. Kili missed Fili when Fili was gone, but he would often travel with Vili into the woods and into the mines, learning how to hunt for game and fish for food. He spent more time with Vili than Fili ever did, and when Fili was deemed old enough to go with Thorin into the wider lands, making money in the cities of men and of hobbits, Fili went with Thorin. At the same time, Vili decided to travel to the west, to the forests that clumped around the Blue Mountains, and he took Kili with him.

Kili became aware from an early age that he was different, because when his _amad_ transformed into her other-self, she was a beautiful tawny lioness, and she would run with his sire who was a huge black wolf. Thorin would transform into a massive lion, huge mane wild about his shoulders, and Fili would transform into a golden lion cub with huge paws he was still growing into. Kili transformed into a small black kitten, the dark spots barely visible in good light. Here, too, he connected closely with his father, since his father also was markedly different from those around them. He never really heard the legends of what black coats meant in the shapeshifter mythology, mostly because he never really interacted with other young dwarves his age. This was in part because there were really no dwarves around his age that were from Erebor’s line – the dwarves that were around his age were friends with Fili, who was the heir, and didn’t really hang around Kili. Kili became a master of playing on his own, or playing with his brother. Fili, for all that he had a lot of friends and was around the elders all the time. Kili missed Fili, yes, but Fili always came home and played with Kili. Kili valued these times highly, never wasting a moment with his brother, and was unfailingly easy to please and unwilling to fight. Fili was his hero, his role model, the pinnacle of what Kili should be, and for the first part of his life, Kili would follow Fili around the small house, emulating his habits. Dis would chuckle and ruffle his hair, and Vili would smile sadly and shake his head at Kili’s antics. When Kili realized that Fili would come in stern-faced, and leave the house laughing and smiling at Kili’s tactics, he began to act more outrageously. He gained a reputation in their small community as a prankster, as a jokester, and while it didn’t really gain him friends it gained him grudging acceptance from his people.

Kili also grew up knowing that Thorin did not appreciate Kili’s jokes or capers. He frowned and told Kili that a good prince behaved in a solemn and weighty manner, one that would bring pride to their ancestors. Dwalin was forever sighing over Kili’s choices of weaponry, and Kili’s short attention span, and Balin more than once gave Kili stern lectures about paying attention to information that was their heritage and legacy. Kili accepted the criticisms as well as a young dwarf could, ducking his head and immediately becoming contrite. He never wanted to make his family and closest mentors _mad_ , not really. He just wanted Fili to smile.

He was still fairly young, perhaps around forty years or so, when he was out with his father and a flash flood spilled down from the hills and would have swept away whole families of Men had not he and his father lent their hands to help. The only problem with that was their father took ill, and never got better. By the time Kili was forty-five, his father had passed away, and Kili lost the one person he could confide in about feeling out of place, as if he didn’t belong.

For a while, he mourned deeply. Oh, in retrospect he realized he couldn’t have mourned deeper than Fili or his mother, but if felt like they continued their lives while he, with his treks out of the town and down the mountains, and his long runs in the wild alongside his black-coated wolf-father, had his life essentially stopped. He grew angry and resentful, more and more reckless. Finally, Dwalin took him out to the training ring and handed him a falchion. It wasn’t Kili’s preferred weapon, but neither was it Dwalin’s, and it allowed Kili to work out his anger and it ended with him gasping on the ground, tears streaming from his eyes, and Dwalin crouched behind him, gently rubbing circles against his back.

Life went on.

Dis grew older, grew more despairing of her jokester son, and Fili grew older, became more regal and self-assured. He joined in with some of Kili’s pranks, still, but it was becoming less and less, and Fili stopped smiling as much. Kili would come up with more and more ridiculous pranks, remembering his father’s smile and Dis’s chuckles, and Fili’s open-mouthed laughter and mirth. Some of them were more disaster than prank, and Kili endured longer and longer lectures from Thorin and Balin. Dwalin, Dwalin just sighed and set him to harder tasks, building up Kili’s stamina in hopes that tiring the energetic youth would lessen his ability to pull such tricks. None of these taught him the desired lesson. Because the goal, the underlying drive that created in him this mischievous nature, was always and ever Fili.

Fili, who grew more solemn as time went on.

 

***

 

At the age of seventy-five, on the cusp of his coming of age and coming into his own as a master hunter and tanner, Kili came in the back of their home early to hear Fili and Thorin and Dis discussing serious matters at the kitchen table.

“—never be any better time. I have the map, now, and the runes. Oin has read the omens. Now is the time to go. And Fili, as my heir, deserves to be there.”

“He is only just come of age!” Dis’s voice was fierce and protective.

“ _Amad_ , I have been training for this from birth. I have passed all the tests and challenges Balin and Dwalin had set before me. I’ve gone with uncle to our cousin’s court, and presented myself, and conducted myself well. I’ve proved myself in battle.”

Fili’s voice was tense with excitement, eager to hear his mother say yes. Kili wished she would – but then he realized that he was not really supposed to be back before sunset. This conversation would have taken place without Kili having ever known it happened. And it didn’t sound like anyone was arguing for _Kili_ to go on Thorin’s quest.

There was a heavy sigh, and then Dis said quietly, “I can’t lose you, Fili.”

“I can’t take the throne, _amad_ , not without fighting for it. I need to establish a reign that is – that is safe. Strong.”

“I will think on it.”

Dis’s voice was heavy, and Kili, leaning against the wall that separated the kitchen from the workroom in the back, could hear the impatient shift of Fili’s chair, the soft growl that came from Thorin, but Dis continued, “I will _think_ on it, Thorin. I wish for your quest to be successful and for Fili to prove to the naysayers his worth – but he is my son, Thorin, and I will think on it.”

After a long moment, a chair scraped back. “I will be leaving in the morning, with Dwalin and Balin, to gather as many to our banner as we can. Fili will finish the business at the forge and ensure your safety here before joining us on the road. Gandalf has told us to meet in the Shire. He believes he has the answer to sneaking in past Smaug’s nose within that quiet land, though I doubt him.”

“He’s a wizard, Thorin. He would not make decisions that would harm you, or your quest, not if he’s already joined in on your side,” Dis said wearily.

A grunt, and more shifting, before two pairs of boots clumped out the door and Kili heard the door close. After he counted to ten under his breath, slowly, and heard nothing but his mother moving in the kitchen and at the oven, he quietly opened the door and leaned his bow and quiver against the door. “ _Amad,_ ” he said softly.

Dis whirled around, braids swinging from her upper lip in shock. “ _Kili_! Mahal, but you startled me!” Then she squinted at him, then at the door he’d walked in from, and then she sucked in a deep sigh. “You heard it all?”

“A chunk of it. I got lucky; I brought down a buck, a fine animal. I was coming in for the knives and heard a bit.” He stared at her a moment before saying quietly, “They do not intend to take me, do they?”

“I do not think so, my wild son,” Dis said, and he could see tears in her eyes. “Are you that eager to leave me? To leave your _amad_ behind?”

Kili crossed the kitchen, more aware of his height and lankiness than ever before, as he wrapped his arms around his mother’s shoulders and hugged her tight. “No, _amad_. If I had my choice, we would never leave here. But if Fili goes, I must go with him.”

“Why?” she asked, clutching at his coat, face pressed against him. “Why must you go? My boys, you were never supposed to be in line for succession. You were _never_ supposed to have to carry a kingdom upon your shoulders. Vili was our way out.”

“Because you raised us to be good dwarrows,” Kili murmured against the top of her head. “You taught us to care for our people, and our people need more than living off the scraps of our cousins grudgingly given. If Thorin is right, if this quest comes to fruition, our people will be rich again. Our people won’t have to take the menial jobs Men and Hobbits hand us. We will regain our homeland and our heritage.” Kili paused, and then swallowed hard before saying, “And because Vili knew this, and so he allowed Fili to be trained.”

“Fili may die. _You_ may die. This quest—”

“I will do everything in my power to bring Fili back to you, _amad_ ,” Kili swore.

She stepped back, eyes hard. “And you, Kili. _And you_. You must _both_ come back for me if you wish me to live out my lifespan in peace. Especially you, my wild, reckless panther. You must come back to me, safe and sound.”

“I will do my best, _amad_. I will do my very best.”

 

***

 

Kili was getting ready for bed the next night when Fili stormed into his room. Surprised – ever since they were given separate rooms, Fili had relished the privacy and never ventured into Kili’s room if he could help it – Kili turned around, bare-chested and arms caught in his nightshirt.

“What did you say to _amad_?” Fili demanded. “She is insisting that you come with us!”

“Oh, is that all?” Kili asked, twisting and wiggling until the shirt fell over his head and down to his knees. “I told her that she and father raised us to care for our people, and therefore she should let us go. And that she would have a better chance getting her sons back if we watched one another’s back.”

“Kili – you _can’t_ go.”

Kili quirked an eyebrow at Fili, picking up his comb to brush out his hair. “Why not?” he challenged. “You’ll need someone on this quest to keep people’s hopes up. How many do you think uncle can call to his banner? No dwarves will answer his call, not when Erebor has finally been laid low and other bloodlines can rise. Our race has lost their great warriors. We are but a few in number.”

“They all swore oaths to Thorin,” Fili replied heatedly. “They will heed the call!”

“Thorin cannot force them to march with him,” Kili pointed out. “Balin has said as much, I know he has. He’s always after me about counting on support before it is given.”

“So, we should take you because we’ll need all the help we can get?” Fili sneered.

Hurt, Kili paused in his motions, and let his hands fall to his sides. “No, brother,” he said quietly. “You should take me because I am an heir to the bloodline, like you, and I care about our heritage, like you, and I want to see you on the throne as much as you want to see yourself on the throne. You would be a good leader, Fili.”

That seemed to take the wind out of Fili’s lungs, and he slumped down onto the edge of the bed. “Mother would only let me go with a minder?”

“No, Fili,” Kili said quietly, sitting down next to Fili and bumping shoulders with his brother – Mahal, but it had been so long since he’d had time to just _sit_ with Fili, even if the circumstances were much less than ideal. “I think _amad_ would have let you go. I argued to go with you because – because you _can’t_ leave me here. You _can’t_.”

After a long moment, Fili whispered, “Uncle has been talking about this for so long. He didn’t want to risk you, Kili. He didn’t – there are reasons he didn’t want you on this quest.”

“He’s wrong,” Kili said simply. “I belong by your side, as much as possible. This quest will take you further than you’ve ever gone. Who will make you smile when you’re halfway across the world from me?”

Fili smiled sadly. “Uncle may not let us go, if we’re a package deal.”

Kili hadn’t contemplated that, and he swallowed hard. “I’m the best hunter in our village, everyone knows that,” he said finally. “I’ve been trained by Balin and Dwalin, just like you, even if they weren’t as strict or serious with me. I can be an asset. And – and Thorin wouldn’t really risk leaving you at home. You’re the heir.”

“I don’t _want_ to be,” Fili burst out roughly, dropping his head in his hands. “Mahal, but I’m tired of – of all of it. It’s too much, Kili, they’re going to crush me between the anvil and the hammer and flatten me until there’s nothing left.”

“And that’s why I’m coming,” Kili said stoutly, for all that he was terrified at seeing his brother as anything other than confident and strong. “Because you’ll need me, and I want to be there for you.”

Fili sat there, leaning against Kili, and after a moment, Kili nudged Fili’s shoulder. “Here. Let me put your braids in again, get them tight. You left this morning before I could do it.”

“I wanted to see uncle before he left,” Fili mumbled, but he obligingly lifted his head and shifted to give Kili better access to his hair.

This was something Kili did for Fili, every day. Fili didn’t braid much of his hair – like Thorin, he kept it loose in mourning, and Kili kept it loose as well (for mourning, ostensibly, but mostly because the braids bothered him when they swung about his head). The few braids Fili had were marking him as a master swordsman and craftsman, braids of honor that he kept against the front of his head, and a few braids honoring his mother’s line and his father’s line. Kili did the well-practices patterns and then ran his comb through Fili’s hair, scratching at Fili’s scalp soothingly. Underneath his hands, he heard Fili begin to purr beneath his breath, leaning back against Kili’s fingers.

“It’ll be me and you, brother,” Kili murmured, finishing his duties and then resting his forehead against the back of Fili’s head. “We’ll take care of each other.”

 

***

 

“Something seems… wrong, Kili.”

Kili swallowed hard and didn’t meet Fili’s gaze. “Nothing’s wrong, brother.”

“ _Kili_.”

Kili bit his lip and shook his head. “Not now, Fee.”

“I think it needs to be now,” Fili growled, but Thorin was already given the order to move on, and Kili knew, _knew_ , he couldn’t be the reason that the company got caught by orcs. Already they hadn’t had the best luck, and he’d heard the more superstitious of their group mutter about black shadows trailing their steps. He didn’t need to cause more trouble.

It was almost a relief that they found someone with a boat, and Kili wouldn’t have to try and hide the debilitating weakness in his leg while walking. Sitting down and pressing tight on the wound to keep it from bleeding out was about as much as Kili could do and not pass out; as it was, the smell of fish and the rocking of the boat made his stomach heave and he held tight onto his insides by luck more than anything else. The happenings of the company drifted around him and he stayed anchored to Fili’s side, doing his utmost to appear awake and alert though all he wanted to do was to lie down and sleep.

The decision to leave their host’s house and find real weapons was one Kili didn’t agree with, and had in fact spoken out against along with two others, Bilbo being one of them, but the majority of the company did not want to wait and so out they went, Kili ignoring the grey spots swimming across his vision and stubbornly putting one foot in front of the other.

Which made it all the worse when it was by _his_ hand that they were captured.

That failure, more than anything else, dampened Kili entirely. At the feast in their honor – given to them by the men in this town, because they expected immediate riches that Kili had not the heart to explain would not be forthcoming – Kili did not participate with the singing and the boasting, the raucous stories and easy camaraderie the other dwarves shared with one another. Instead, he stepped out of the hall and into the night, breathing in the fish-stink and trying to keep his stomach where it belonged.

“Kili.”

Kili twitched but did not turn around – moments later, Fili’s shoulder brushed against Kili’s and Fili stood beside him, wine cup in hand, staring out across the misshapen buildings and crooked streets. “They expect a miracle from us,” Fili murmured.

Kili laughed sadly. “They will get nothing, and you know it, Fili. For them to gain what Thorin promised – it will take years to rebuild the trading routes, years to make Laketown into something other than ramshackle structures hastily constructed in the middle of a lake. As if the water would keep wood from burning under a dragon’s flame.”

“They want to have hope,” Fili replied.

Nodding, Kili tried to unobtrusively shift his weight so as to ignore the hot pain crawling up his leg. “That they do, I suppose.”

“We just have to give them reason to trust,” Fili continued, feeling out his words slowly. “We need to start the process, remain in open negotiations with them. They may not have the wealth immediately, but the promise of it backed by trust will be enough.” Then Fili shook his head. “But I am more concerned about you, brother. You think no one notices, but we do. Something is not right with your wound, and it needs to be looked at before we leave. Oin has found a small room in which to inspect—”

“No,” Kili said immediately. “No, it will be fine. It is just very deep, and very painful. It will heal. All wounds do.”

“You forget, brother,” Fili whispered, fingers coming up to tangle in Kili’s mess of hair, “I grew up with you. I know when you’re lying – and you’re lying right now.”

“I’ll be _fine_ , Fili!” Kili snapped, jerking away.

Fili stared at him, looking hurt and surprised, which made Kili’s stomach roil more than it already was. “I – apologize if I upset you,” Fili finally said, stiff and uncomfortable.

Kili sighed, and looked around for somewhere to sit, because his wound was bothering him more and more as the night wore on. “You didn’t, Fee. I just – I can do this. I want to do this. You and uncle both didn’t want me on this quest, and the rest of them are uneasy around me—”

“Why?” Fili asked suspiciously.

Kili ignored his brother to continue, “—and we are coming down to the last day, our last chance, and I cannot afford to be wounded. Not now.”

“Perhaps you are ill,” Fili suggested. “The water was very cold, and maybe the damp settled in your lungs?”

“If I handled that thunderstorm on the mountains, I think I can handle a bit of dunking,” Kili said dryly.

Fili smiled tiredly, and took Kili’s hand to lead Kili towards a few barrels in a shadowy corner of the balcony. Kili twined his fingers tight against Fili’s, surprised at the gesture. Fili had done his utmost to keep aloof for years now. For all that he would nudge shoulders and casually knock foreheads and fists, spar and jostle, the intimacy of holding hands with his younger brother had been lost years ago. “It’s been a long while since you held my hand in such a manner,” Kili remarked quietly.

The words had Fili stiffening, and Kili paused in his motions of sitting down on one of the barrels because the response was highly confusing. “Fili?” he asked quietly.

“I apologize for grabbing your hand in such a manner,” Fili replied. “I will try my best not to do so again.”

Kili laughed; he couldn’t help it, even when Fili scowled and drew himself up tight like the indignant hedgehogs that scrambled in the forests at the foot of the Blue Mountains. “Brother, I don’t know what manner you’re talking about. You are free to grab my hand in any way that pleases you. I merely remarked on the newness of the gesture, as it is one you’ve taken great pains to stop using.”

Fili hesitated, and there was something in his eyes that Kili could remember seeing, many times over many years, when Fili watched Kili suffer another lecture for another prank, or managed to make himself the fool yet again so Fili would smile. Kili never knew how to label it, not when it was more than fondness or love, something deeper than respect or brotherhood. “I thought it would be… too intimate. Too familiar.”

Kili’s mouth twisted into a wry smile, and the pain loosened his tongue and made him bold, for all he said was, “With all the times I’ve seen you naked, and all the times I’ve watched _amad_ cuff your ears, do you think there are still levels of familiarity we have not yet reached?”

Fili’s cheeks flushed deep red, and he gripped tight at the goblet in his hand. Kili looked at it, and then at Fili strangely. Before he could question the behavior, Fili whispered hoarsely, “Yes. I do believe there are levels of familiarity we have not yet reached.”

Kili’s heart skipped a bit, a pain so unlike the pain radiating from his leg that he gaped unbecomingly at Fili for too long, and his golden brother’s face grew clouded and unhappy. “I apologize. Again.” Fili’s voice was stiff and wooden. “I spoke too—”

He had never done well with words, or with speeches. Kili spoke best with actions, with pranks, with laughter, and so he leaned forward – nearly falling, for his weight would not be taken properly on his wounded leg – and pressed his nose against the corner of Fili’s mouth. It was an intention for – deeper intimacy. Lover-like intimacy. It was closer and dearer than the gestures of welcome families and friends shared, forehead to forehead.

Fili said not a word.

Perhaps Kili had misread the situation. He hadn’t thought he had, not with Fili’s increasing closeness on the quest and Fili’s choice to speak to him like this, but there was always the chance, and it looked like Kili had rolled his die badly. Clearing his throat, he pulled back from Fili’s side and absently reached down to rub at his wound, take care of the ache that suddenly seemed to drain more warmth out of him. “Never mind, Fili. Just know that if you can still let me braid your hair in the mornings, you can hold my hand when you so desire.”

“You – you stubborn _bastard_ ,” Fili growled, and before Kili could open his mouth to point out Fili was insulting his own mother as well, Fili grabbed Kili by the shoulders and physically kissed him on the lips.

Letting out a shocked gasp, Kili felt everything fly from his mind. This was – for the race of Men, it was the equivalent to cupping your partner’s genitals, an intimate gesture that was _not supposed to be done in public_ , but it felt too good for Kili to do anything except clutch at Fili’s thick sleeves and hold fast to his brother’s outer coat. His knees felt weak, both of them, and his pain seemed to lessen to some degree.

With a harsh gasp, Fili pulled back and stood there, gripping Kili’s shoulders, Kili gripping Fili’s arms, and they stared at one another, panting heavily.

Finally, Kili had enough presence of mind to croak, “Well, brother, that certainly would explain a few things.”

For a second, Fili just stared, and then he began laughing, small helpless giggles that graduated into large, long laughs that shook his body and made him lean on Kili – and Kili wrapped his arms tight around Fili’s shoulders (and unobtrusively leaned against the barrels behind him).

“Ah, my brother. I waited – so long I waited. I did not wish to corrupt you, to harm you in any way.”

“And you didn’t,” Kili replied easily. “I have thought about it for a long while as well. But you always seemed to see me as a minor nuisance, someone to be brushed aside while you readied yourself to be a king.”

“What?” Fili extracted himself from Kili’s arms, a look of shock splayed over his face. “What – however could you get such an idea? Kili, you are, you are _never_ a nuisance, not when you dumped me in tar, not when you filled my bedclothes with sand, not when you hid my falchion the day of my exam and had me chase you throughout half the town.” He stopped, staring hard at Kili, shaking his head. “You are never a nuisance. _Never_.”

For all that Kili was in pain, for all that his wound throbbed in time with his heartbeat and dull flames licked at his bones, those words made Kili feel lighter than air.

Of course, after being healed from what apparently had been poison by the she-elf, Tauriel, and surviving Smaug’s attack on Laketown, Fili retreated from Kili, became distant and even more aloof than normal, and Kili almost began to believe their exchange had been a dream, a fanciful wish he’d imagined in his poisoned state.

Then, the Battle of the Five Armies happened, and everything changed.

 

***

 

_Amad, I write this letter to you to tell you that we have won the battle and reclaimed Erebor. We are in growing good health and cannot wait until you return to Erebor with our people._

Kili hesitated, staring down at the strip of parchment. What more could he say? What could he put down that would not sound like childish whining, petulant complaints, or selfish rants?

After a very long moment, sitting at the desk in the rookery, he added, _I hope your journey goes smoothly. We all miss you very much._

It was the closest he could get to the fact that he was missing, very much, his mother. Or, at least, _someone_ who didn’t treat him like…

Like what he was.

Because what Kili was beginning to realize – what he’d begun to realize throughout the journey, as Dori and Nori snubbed him, as Gloin refused to really interact with him, as Oin and Bifur both took care never to touch him or remain in his presence more than necessary – was that his parents and his uncle and his mentors had kept him very, very sheltered as a child. He grew up wanting nothing, never knowing the true extent of his people’s prejudices against a dwarf that had a coat of pitch instead of a coat of gold. He didn’t realize that the reason Thorin and Balin had not wanted Kili on this quest was not really because they didn’t think him ready, but they didn’t think the world would treat Kili well, and they wished to spare him. (He hadn’t realized until very recently that another reason Thorin and Balin had argued against including Kili on the quest had been because of ill luck that followed a coat of pitch, because their people would assume the quest tainted because of Kili’s presence, because Kili jeopardized the legitimacy of Fili’s kingship. That, he had figured out on his own, by listening to Dain’s people gossip around the campfire when they didn’t know he was nearby.)

They didn’t explain that they, too, still had some of the old prejudices deep within them, placing Kili in charge of rebuilding the royal quarters instead of where he could do some good – hunting or patrolling or even cleaning out the rubble and laying the dead to rest, returning them to stone. No, Kili was shunted away, to ready the royal rooms and salvage what he could from rotted and aged furniture, molding and musty sheets. He knew, objectively, that it was a job that needed to be done, but…

He rolled the piece of parchment up and handed it to the raven, who took it and sped off. With a sigh, he turned to leave the rookery and nearly walked into some of Dain’s men.

Of all the dwarves, his kin from Ered Luin were the ones who didn’t treat him like a leper because of his other form – they only treated him as the spare, and while he knew that, should Fili have fallen in battle, the throne would have gone to him, it didn’t change the feeling that he was somehow lesser or secondary to Fili, not when he and Fili had only just begun to reconnect and fall into their normal patterns.

He smiled and inclined his head respectfully, but they only sniffed and went about their business, muttering about pretentious spares who were underfoot. Heaving another sigh, he made his way back up to the royal chambers to finish airing out the rooms and stripping the molding cloth from the various stone-and-moss mattresses.

“Kili?”

Kili turned at the sound of his name to see Dwalin coming up to him. Happy to see any face he recognized at all, Kili grinned wide and almost launched himself at Dwalin. Only Kili’s age and the fact that Dwalin didn’t look ready to brace Kili stopped him, and when Dwalin got close enough Kili _did_ launch himself at Dwalin’s chest and give the elder dwarf a tight hug.

“What’s this?” Dwalin asked gruffly, patting Kili’s back. “What ails you?”

“Nothing, Master Dwalin,” Kili responded cheerfully, if a bit muffled from his tight hug around Dwalin’s body. “What news from the main chamber? How goes the restoration?”

Dwalin let out a frustrated sigh and Kili released Dwalin to take a closer look at Dwalin’s face. “The stinking elves and the men cannot seem to come to terms, even _with_ Gandalf presiding over the meeting. Your uncle and brother did their best to compose themselves, but that elven bastard…”

“What more could they want? They already are claiming a tithe of gold for ‘allowing’ us to travel through their lands, when they would have gladly kept us from our quest had they known about it while we were passing!” Kili said indignantly.

It was that which had Dwalin’s head tilting and his bushy mustache twitched. “You and your brother are much alike. That is nearly exactly what your brother said while trying to impose order on the chaos that resulted at the end of the meeting.” Shaking his head, Dwalin paused in his movements – they had been walking together towards the staircase that led up to the royal apartments – and looked around. “I am here to look for the small treasury attached to these upper rooms; where would that be?”

Kili pointed out the hallway that would take Dwalin to the small room (small compared to the others here, because frankly all these rooms were larger than Kili’s old home) and then watched Dwalin go with wistfulness in his eyes. His brother was making good progress – he hadn’t expected anything different, really – but any kind of diplomacy had to be driving Fili mad. He wished to be there, but he had no reason to be, and every reason not to be. But since he couldn’t be there, and he knew the mood his brother would be in later that night. It had been so long since he’d seen Fili smile, he thought ruefully, as Dwalin turned towards the treasury and Kili made his way back up to the royal apartments and continued sorting unsalvageable artifacts into a pile.

He could always pull a prank.

Kili paused mid-motion and considered the idea from all angles. Pulling a prank now would only make himself look more childish than ever, and he had enough people hissing at him under their breaths for having a black coat on his animal and for being the ‘spare’ – he didn’t need to hand them extra ammunition. That being said, Fili needed to loosen up, needed something to distract his mind from fruitless efforts at creating a workable treaty the elves, men, and dwarves could agree to. And Kili had never had a problem sacrificing his reputation for Fili’s betterment. The prank didn’t have to happen in public, not really – it could be small, relatively speaking, and done here in the rooms. Give Fili a chance to get upset and wrestle with Kili, give Fili the chance to have some kind of release of tension. Glancing around the room, specifically at the trash to be thrown out in any case, he began to formulate a plan.

Of course, he realized later that night, surrounded by the remnants of his prank and a completely drenched and soaking Fili and uncle Thorin, he didn’t take into account how tightly strung Fili was, and how his uncle was still recovering from the gold-lust that had made him act irrationally in the first place.

“I expected this quest would have taught you something about being a proper dwarf, and a proper heir,” Thorin roared, “but to see _this_ no one would think so! If you cannot behave correctly, you shall be treated as the babe you insist to act like! Return to your quarters _immediately_. I shall think up a more appropriate punishment when I am not seething with the desire to simply have you thrown out of Erebor!”

Kili, who was very glad for the lecture to end, barely glanced at Fili – Fili, who hadn’t so much as twitched a smile at the elaborate prank – when he made his escape to his rooms. There, he unrolled his pack and pulled out fresh clothes. Feathers and water looked ridiculous, but part of a good prank was about timing and understanding when a prank would be unwelcome or not. He should have known better.

Groaning under his breath, he stripped off his feather-studded clothes and picked up his change of fresh clothing. Movement at the corner of his eye had him freezing, before he remembered the mirrors present in every personal room within this area. In the reflective surface, he saw himself how everyone else must have seen him: too tall, too lanky, too thin. Short beard, wild hair, clumsy limbs born of his still-growing body learning the length of arms and legs. Feathers spotted his hair and body, and he dripped water onto the floor. Bare-chested, he stared at himself a moment longer before growling to himself and viciously turning away from the sight. No wonder everyone called him the spare and looked down upon him, he thought bitterly. A poor consolation prize he’d be, if Fili would be unable to take the throne. He could barely stand to look at—

“Kili?”

The sound of Fili jerked Kili out of his angry thoughts, and he quickly put on a rueful smile as he turned around to see his older brother standing in the doorway, arms folded. Seeing the stern and forbidding look on Fili’s face, Kili’s smile faded. After a long moment, waiting for Fili to make the first move or to say something, Kili swallowed roughly and jerkily shrugged his arms, spreading them expansively. “Something I can do for you, brother?” he asked, voice quiet.

“I want to know _why_ ,” Fili said, and his voice was low, a guttural growl that harkened to his lion-bodied form and the way it would establish mastery over Kili’s lower form. “Why must you act a fool? You only make uncle and everyone more certain you are too young and immature to be here.”

“I proved myself on the battlefield!” Kili protested, tired of trying to keep up the pretense. “I _saved_ uncle’s life, and nearly died for it! I stood at your back and we protected him, you and I, and you came to the healer’s tent and I thought – I thought—”

“What?” Fili demanded. “What did you _think_ , Kili? Did you think that because you can swing a sword around that makes you an equal? That means you can stand alongside us and be taken seriously? You make yourself a nuisance, an embarrassment that we must excuse to our kin from Ered Luin and our people who are returning! Why must you _act_ in such a manner?!”

Before he could properly think out a diplomatic answer, Kili burst out, “Because of _you_!”

Fili stopped, stunned, and then dark fury flashed over his face. “What?” he asked softly, voice full of menace.

But Kili had started, and he might as well finish. “Because of _you_ , beloved, because you never smile anymore and you are becoming like uncle, harsh and unyielding and unable to look at the sunshine and give a smile of happiness. Because I am losing _you_ , Fili, the brother who would listen to me babble as a child and let me braid his hair and speak to me when no one else would. Any measure of happiness or laughter I can bring back into your life – aye, I’d sacrifice myself for that, though you do not seem to care or appreciate it.”

A long silence stretched over the quarters, and Kili turned his back to Fili, roughly shoving the clean wool over his head. Behind him, Fili started to say, “Kili, I—”

Kili interrupted Fili, refusing to turn around. “Enough, Fili. Enough of this farce. My being here is a burden upon your reign and uncle Thorin’s right to rule. I understand why I am shunted away from the group, and why you cannot visit, and why I only see you at night and even then, very early in the morn. I understand. Please, leave my quarters. I would dress.”

“Kili, I did not—”

“ _Enough_ , Fili!”

The ringing silence sounded loud, too loud in Kili’s ears, and for a long moment he thought Fili would push, and Kili would break down in tears or lash out in anger, but thankfully Fili exited the room and he heard the door close behind Fili.

Kili stared at the ground before him, at the pack half-ready. He’d had the idea for a while now, but no courage to follow through. Now, though… now he had all the impetus he needed. What use was a spare when the heir was alive, and mostly healthy save for the limp leftover from the battle? Certainly none. He only cast a shadow upon the throne, an unwanted shadow that foretold bad luck and destruction, and it would be best for all if he were to leave. Traveling in his other form, he could make good time, and he certainly could blend into the woods better in his panther form than as a lone dwarf on the road. The Iron Hills were far away, and the bloodlines there transformed into bears. A panther would stand out, but wouldn’t necessarily be unwelcome as he would be in the Grey Mountains, where the bloodlines transformed into birds of prey. He was a good hunter, and a good craftsman with beads and leather. He could make his way in the world.

Roughly jerking on a pair of clean trousers and lacing up his boots, he grabbed his fur coat and pack, slinging it onto his back. His bow and quiver attached to the pack, and then he was slipping down a passageway he’d found during his cleaning of the rooms, leaving his room and Erebor behind. No one would expect to see him about at this late hour, and no one would stop a dwarf with his hood up and shoulders bowed like an old miner come home from a long day. It was child’s play to slip past the few dwarves between him and the main gate, and then he was out in the air and—

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Kili started violently, jumping upright into the air and twisting to land on his feet, heart pounding. “Bilbo,” he breathed through the adrenaline coursing through his veins. “You startled me.”

Bilbo squinted at him. “I can tell. But where are you going?”

“Does it matter?” Kili asked. “I will go somewhere where being a panther will not cause people to shrink from my path, and where no one knows I am nothing more than the spare to the throne. It’s not as if I was doing any particular work, and you know it, Bilbo. _You_ have a more important job than me, and uncle is – I thought – more mad at you than he was at me when he divided up the work.”

Bilbo rocked back and forth on his heels, frowning. “Does your uncle know you’re leaving? Your brother? You and your brother seemed very close on the quest—”

“Did your vision send you here to warn me, or merely tell you that I was leaving and you are here to change my mind?” Kili interrupted, knowing he was being rude, but true dark was falling and he wanted to be on the road before it got too dark to travel. Hobbits were not shapeshifters like dwarves; they apparently had the ability to see a bit into the future, enough to have some kind of warning of disasters and to guide their choices in matters they were unsure about. It was part of the reason uncle Thorin had eventually forgiven the hobbit for his deep betrayal, though even now the dwarves were uneasy around the burglar.

For a heartbeat, it looked as if Bilbo really would say something, give Kili some warning that his journey would have a bad end, that Kili should not go on the journey, and Kili waited with bated breath, torn between wanting to hear that he should not go and fear that Bilbo would ask him to stay and Kili would be trapped, unable to do anything except out-of-the-way jobs where he wouldn’t have to interact with his kin and make them uneasy. Then, Bilbo shook his head slowly. “My vision told me that it would be in my best interest to be here at this time, but it gave me no direction beyond that,” he said softly.

“Then, master burglar, I will be on my way,” Kili said, just as soft, and he stepped forward and let the welcome feeling of his transformation wash over his body, twist his limbs perfectly within the straps of his pack, until he stood on four feet instead of two, and his pack lay tight against fur instead of his cloak. Then, he leapt out into the gathering dark, heading south.

 

***

 

It wasn’t particularly easy to travel like this. Oh, Kili could travel for days upon days, but there weren’t many (any) black-coated cats in the whole of Middle Earth. Traveling at night was best, as he not only blended in but could follow the stars. He very quickly traveled past Esgaroth and followed the eastern bank of Celduin. Trade had picked up in this area in no small part due to Erebor’s retaking and growth, but the lands south and east of Erebor were largely uninhabited except by tribes of Men. They were offshoots of the Rohan, the Horse Lords, and they were fiercely protective of their lands. The traders rarely traveled more east than the Sea of Rhun, and at this time of the year, the caravans wouldn’t be following Celduin into the Rhun.

Kili had the whole world to himself.

It was – strangely timeless, his loping run eating up the miles of flat plains and grassland, the tall grass covering him and making it easier and easier for him to travel during the night. He hoped that by heading south, his uncle and his brother would assume he was traveling away from their kin. There were small clans of dwarves still inhabiting the Misty Mountains, and much further south there were the Ered Lithui, with some of their far-removed kin there. At best, he hoped they believed he’d take the Forest Road. The longer journey would also mean that when he did turn back north, creating his U-shaped path, the urgency of finding him – if there was any urgency at all, which Kili had to plan for even if he didn’t really expect it – would have eased, and those in the Iron Hills wouldn’t notice when a new dwarf, looking too much like an elf, took up residence in one of their cities.

He hunted when he became hungry, slept during the day, and ran all night. He was used to hard travel, and he kept himself close to the water so as not to lose his way while running through the long grass that created an almost unnatural sameness of the land no matter where he traveled. The stars at night, at least, told him he made good time, and he found himself hitting the Carnen before he knew it. He’d passed by small towns of Men, had hid from a few patrols, but no one this far out would be looking for him. Slowly, he turned himself north and followed the Carnen to its source.

It was easily a full month since his departure from Erebor that he entered the rock-and-wood land at the foot of the Iron Hills. He had to be careful here; the King of these lands, Dain, was a distant cousin to Thorin and had seen Fili and Kili before, though his men that had fought alongside the company had not recognized Kili (at least, he assumed they didn’t when they spoke ill of him; it was entirely possible they knew who he was and just didn’t care that he heard their ill-wishes). Kili could remember a stout, powerful dwarf with cold eyes, large ears and nose, vicious and handsome all at once. It had been at a meeting between the Western and Eastern dwarves, held in the Misty Mountains, and Thorin had been obliged to take Fili and Kili both, as they were of the royal line. Kili had interacted very little with Dain, since Dain had been more interested in speaking to and interacting with Thorin and Fili, but still – there was no sense in courting disaster. Dain had, after all, participated in the Battle of the Five Armies and had been granted high status from Thorin for his bravery in the battle and for his swift aid that prevented the otherwise almost-certain dwarven defeat.

So Kili did not travel deep into the Iron Hills, and instead – once he was close enough to recognize the mountains – stopped traveling in his other form and traveled as a dwarf only. The Longbeards were not wolves like dwarves of Ered Luin, nor were they cats like the dwarves of Erebor descent. The Iron Hills were full of bears – small and large, white and black, brown and gold. They might not care about the color of his coat, but they would care that he was not a bear and report his appearance to Erebor.

A day’s distance from the border patrols, Kili stopped to dirty his clothing, to painstakingly braid his hair in the style of a wandering tinker. He knew enough tinkering to get by, and dwarves who were not miners or smiths often traveled, unwilling to stay in one place. They were looked down upon as lower, a second class of citizens, in a way, for it was the miners and smiths that made the backbone of the dwarves. Picking his pack up, he carefully placed scraps of cloth to hang from the pack, samples of the beadwork he could do and the trinkets he could fashion. He kept his bow out but unstrung, and then he began his walk towards the Iron Hills.

Like the Blue Mountains, the Iron Hills had one large city that held the royal family, and the rest of the mountains were dotted with smaller towns cut into the rock. He did not intend to go anywhere near the city or its surroundings towns; instead, he placed himself on the road further west, and when he was stopped by the patrols, he smiled easily, laughed often, offered up his services to mend their pots or utensils if they needed it, joked with the guards, and made it clear he had been determined to see the world.

“It was just me and my da,” he explained, chatting with two of the guards while the other three searched his belongings carefully. “And, well, when da was gone, I figured I weren’t doing any help to that city of Men, and I decided to travel north.”

“From Ered Lithui?” one of the guards asked.

Kili shook his head. “Well, my da’s one of them, aye, but when my mam passed he moved into Rohan, became a blacksmith for Men. Didn’t want no more to do with raiding, and war. We heard bad things about Dol Guldur, and the southern parts of the Greenwood, and so we circled around and made our way to the Rhun.”

The guards nodded, talked with him a bit more, then returned his pack to him and sent him on his way.

So it was that Kili passed into the western reaches of the Iron Hills, set up a small shop in the first town he came to that was close enough for him to hunt on the plains easily, and settled down. The dwarves accepted him easily enough, laughed at his jokes and offered him their meager gold, but his scent remained strange to him, and he was never included.

Kili shrugged off his loneliness. It was no different than his isolation in the Blue Mountains, after all. And if he had thought that other things could come to pass, if he had wished for something different, then. Well.

Kili was used to not getting what he wanted.

 

***

 

Kili came in to his small shop, feeling too old for his age. The Iron Hills were, on the whole, poorer than Erebor, even poorer than the Blue Mountains since the Blue Mountains were situated near fertile land that could provide grains and fruit. Here, meat was the main source of food, since practically everything else needed to be bought from outside traders. Weapons of iron were the weapons of commoners; it was more likely that iron be used for pots, for tools. Iron, being the main trading source for the Iron Hills, became Kili’s lifeblood, and the bits of glass he could fashion to bead clothing and trinkets were rare. His talents really only shone as a hunter, someone who could supply fresh game to the town, and though he helped mend homes and houses, pots and pans, clothing and ornaments, his food came from the meat he tracked down and brought back to trade. His lifestyle made him even thinner, and he did not dissuade the rumor in the village that his father had lain with one of the Men to get such a tall and thin dwarf (better than the childhood rumor that he was an elf-child, left behind when the Blue Mountain elves stole the _real_ son of Dis and Vili). His clothes were loose on him, and he always felt the low ache of hunger nowadays. Oh, he wasn’t starving – no one in the Iron Hills was actually starving. There was simply a perpetually hungry look about them, something that said that these were dwarves who ate nothing but meat, worked long and hard for that meat, and had nothing but hunting and iron smelting to preoccupy their time. Kili was better off than most of the other dwarves, really, in that his home was sturdy and didn’t suffer from the drafts and weak ceilings other residences did. Being a bear and needing high ceilings came with a price, after all. Kili also, as a hunter, had access to more food than most, though his heart was too soft and he gave away much of it at prices much lower than its worth.

So he was cold, and tired, and empty-handed, when he realized there was another dwarf in the shop, sitting at one of the few chairs. Heaving a sigh, he irritably tugged at his braided hair – he had never gotten used to the braids hitting against his head, pressing into his scalp, annoying him at the worst moments – and said in as cheerful a voice as he could muster, “It’s very late, my kin, and as you can see, my hunting trip did not end favorably. Perhaps return tomorrow, and I will have meat to trade then. Or are you here for my skills at repairs?”

“I am here for neither.”

Kili froze. It had been nearly a year since he had heard that voice, yet he recognized it instantly. Swallowing hard, he took a deep breath in and let it out before saying as calmly as he could, “Good afternoon, Prince under the Mountain.”

“Is it a good afternoon, then?” Fili’s voice was mocking, almost, and when Fili stood up, Kili saw that being king – or the heir, at least – to Erebor had been kind to Fili. More braids, intricate and delicate, rested on the crown of his head and hung down behind his ears.

Kili felt a sudden, vicious surge of jealousy when he wondered who had been braiding Fili’s hair all this time. Fili had never been able to braid his own hair as neatly as that.

Then, of course, he caught himself, and his composure, and instead cleared his throat. “It is a good afternoon outside. It is not too cold, or too windy; the game may be hiding, but the songbirds yet whistle for us to hear.”

“I come to find my brother and instead find a stranger,” Fili said, and his voice was ugly, cold. Kili shivered and wrapped arms around his chest as if to ward off the perpetual chill.

That made Kili angry, but he held his tongue. He’d learned a lot about holding his tongue in these lands, where dwarves were quick to transform to bears and he, by virtue of the fact that his form was so different, either had to apologize or risk dying on claws the size of daggers. So he hung up his quiver and gently set his bow on the table before undoing his cloak’s ties. When he was done – and Fili was looking angrier and angrier – he carefully hung his cloak on the nearest peg and stared at Fili. “How so?” he asked, finally.

But Fili didn’t seem to hear the question; his eyes were firmly fixed on Kili’s chest and abdomen and legs. “You look thinner than ever before.”

Kili couldn’t help the slight flinch; the dwarves here already commented, rudely and crudely, about why he was so thin and what mixed bloodlines he must have. Squaring his shoulders, he jerked his chin at Fili. “And you have grown neater, and stouter. You are very handsome now, Prince under the Mountain.”

“ _Don’t call me that!_ ”

The words echoed with the snarl of a lion, and Kili found himself pressed up against the wall, pegs digging into his back as Fili grasped the collar of his tunic and shook Kili hard enough that his head banged against the rough rock.

Wincing in pain, Kili gripped Fili’s wrists and bared his teeth, trying not to let his hands shift into claws. “Then what _should_ I call you, then? What words would you have of me?”

As abruptly as Fili had launched into anger, he fell out of it and stepped away from Kili. “Brother,” he whispered, and his voice was raw and hoarse. “I would have you call me brother again.”

Tears stung at the corners of Kili’s eyes, and he managed to say with a soft laugh, “You will always be my brother, Fili.”

“You _left_ me.”

Kili swallowed. He felt the urge to defend himself; of course he did. He wanted forgiveness, absolution. He had wanted Fili to feel his loss, feel the lack, and he had wanted Fili to miss him.

But none of that invalidated the reasons he’d left in the first place.

“Aye, I did,” Kili said quietly. “It is best, for all.”

Before he could continue, Fili slammed his fist down on the table in the middle of the room, and Kili heard the wood crack. “Who are you to make such a decision?” he roared, and his eyes flickered gold as his hair began to meld into a braided mane. “Who are you to tell _me_ what is best?”

“Who are _you_ to come here and snarl at me as if I am still your subject?!” Kili snarled back, and it wasn’t safe for him to be yelling, to be arguing, like this – it had been months since he had last transformed, and so the magic itched under his skin with ever surge of fury through his veins. “Who are you to act as if you have the right to come here and scold me like you would a child?”

“Because it was a childish action to run away!” Fili howled back, and suddenly Kili found himself on the ground, Fili on top of him, and instinctively he twisted, pushed, so that Fili was on the floor.

With the oil lamp above them and the light directly on Fili’s face, Kili could see the tear streaks, the trembling, and his hands loosened at Fili’s shoulders.

“Because you ran away instead of helping to fix the problem. Instead of _telling_ me there was a problem that needed fixing. _You left me_.” And now Fili was sobbing, gripping at Kili’s tunic and turning his face from Kili, hands shaking against Kili’s clothes.

Kili shifted so that he was not hurting his brother, moved about so that he could wipe the tears from Fili’s cheeks and brush the pads of his fingers against Fili’s thick beard. “It was better, beloved,” he whispered, and his voice was rough and cracked as he stared at Fili’s face, remembering old curves and finding new lines of worry. “I was not welcome in Erebor, and I was only making it harder, on you and uncle.”

“Who said you were unwelcome?” Fili said roughly. “You could never be unwelcome in your own home!”

With a sigh, Kili got off of his brother and sat back, letting his head fall back and hit the leg of the table in the middle of the room. “You do not need to hide it from me, brother. The reason Thorin kept me away from you throughout our youth – the reason I had my classes separate – the reason he didn’t want me on this quest – the reason our people wonder as to why I was given classes and training in the first place… you do not need to hide it from me. Yes, I was unwelcome, and I was a complication that was hurting more than helping. What would you have me do? Hide in the royal quarters the rest of my life? Order the books in the library? Fili, Thorin set _Bilbo_ at tasks more important than the one he set me to. You think it was just that night? You think I ran away because my feelings were hurt? My bag had already been mostly packed for weeks by that time. And you cannot tell me you have suffered for my disappearance. You are healthier than ever. Erebor has prospered. Trade has begun again.”

Fili pushed himself off of the ground, hands shaking. “I have suffered,” he said heatedly, “every waking moment, I have suffered. In my dreams I see you and I wake clutching at empty air. At meetings I hear your voice in my ear and when I turn there is nothing but dust floating in the lamplight. In the quiet of the night I can smell you, but when I speak you do not answer. You told me that you had long thought of – of more between us. You encouraged me to speak, that last night in Laketown, and you returned my kiss. You made me think that we were more than brothers, Kili, and then you snatched it away without ever letting it grow.”

“It wouldn’t have grown,” Kili whispered, closing his eyes against the pain he could hear in Fili’s voice, against the treacherous thoughts that made him itch to reach out and grip at Fili’s shoulders, curl tight into Fili’s body and hide his face from the world. “You are the Prince now, Fili. You cannot have someone like me as anything, not even as a brother. My shadow is deep and dark, and our people will not tolerate my coat tainting your claim to the throne.”

Because his eyes was closed, Fili’s kiss – hot and wet and desperate and tainted with the salt of Fili’s tears – was a shock that had Kili’s eyes flying open.

“ _Nothing_ ,” Fili growled, low and deep in his throat, and it was as if Kili could see the echo of Fili’s lion form floating beneath his skin, “ _nothing_ is further from the truth. If losing you is the price of being a Prince, Kili, son of Vili, then _I will not pay it_.”

After a long, breathless moment, Kili whispered, “You mean it. Truly.”

“I mean it,” Fili repeated, closing his eyes and resting his forehead against Kili’s. “Truly.”

“Well.” Kili swallowed and tried to steady his nerves. Where did they go from here? Kili had – Kili had not expected this. Oh, he expected someone might tell those in Erebor where he was, even expected that he’d have a visitor (or visitors) to yell at his bad decisions and irresponsible disappearance into the night, because even he knew that he had snuck away like a thief. He hadn’t faced his decision in the light, not wanting to hear false assurances that no one wished him to leave, that no one thought ill of him, and that had been cowardly. But he’d never expect for them to _not_ agree with his decision. They’d yell about how he left, and yell about – perhaps – making them worry, but…

Not this.

But Fili was here. Not only here, but _alone_. That Thorin would allow Fili to go alone—

“Fili?”

His brother leaned back, hands still on Kili’s shoulders. “Yes?”

“Does Thorin know you’re here? How _did_ you know where to find me?”

Fili opened his mouth to answer, and was interrupted by a rumble from his belly. With a sheepish smile Kili remembered from his childhood, Fili suggested, “Perhaps a tale told over supper?”

Kili calculated what was in his coldbox and pantry before nodding. “Come, upstairs. My living quarters are there.”

Upstairs was little more than three rooms; a small pantry, set to one side, and a small bedroom sectioned off. His weapons hung against the wall, the pack he left with on top of a rough wooden box that held his tools to make arrows. A squat table and single stool sat in one corner, next to a small shelf that held a few interesting items he’d found when he’d been out hunting.

Fili looked around the room and frowned. “It’s very… bare.”

“Everything I could make on my own. There’s not a lot of trade coming through a small town such as this one,” Kili said quietly, gesturing to the stool. “Sit; I’ll get something put together.”

Hesitantly, Fili sat and rested his forearms against the table. “You left almost immediately, did you not?”

“More or less,” Kili murmured. His pantry held some rough bread and a few wilted turnips, some bits of carrots. There were a few wild roots, as well, and dried strips of meat. He put together a small plate of the bread and meet and roots, setting it in front of Fili, before moving to the coldbox. Ice wasn’t hard to find in the Iron Mountains – it was so cold, a half-day’s hike up would easily yield more ice – and so Kili never had to worry about the ice melting and the cuts of meat he had spoiling. He didn’t have that much meat – a few small birds, and a hunk of venison he had been saving for a while. Still, he would cook that for his brother, and he moved to the iron stove (which had taken very long to save up for) to begin the pot for a hearty stew with the turnips, carrots, and the rest of the roots.

“I thought as much. Because, Kili, had you waited… I left that night, upset that I had upset _you_. Negotiations had not been going well, and more than anything else I wanted you by my side. I spent a few sleepless hours pacing my room, and then returned to yours and knocked. When I received no answer, I waited outside, until early in the morn, when Bilbo tripped over me. I asked why he was there, and he smiled in that way he does and said that he had a feeling he needed to be in front of your room at that time.” Fili’s voice stopped, and Kili turned from the stove to look over his shoulder to see Fili’s furious and sad face. “Why he could not come before then… I asked him if he was there to speak to you, and his face… He told me what you had said, that night.”

Kili realized he was staring and turned back to the oven, feeling the blood rush to his ears. “And?”

“And you were wrong. I told you, downstairs. You aren’t – aren’t _just_ a spare. You aren’t a – an omen, or whatever Dain’s idiots kept muttering about.”

“Kept?” Kili said before he could stop himself from interrupting.

“Kept,” Fili repeated, grunting a little.

There was silence for a few moments, and finally Kili turned away from his pointless stirring of the still-not-boiling stew to face Fili. “Well? How did you find me?” Kili asked. “That only tells me when you found out I left.”

“That tells you when _I_ left.”

Kili stared at Fili a long moment, unable to really process what Fili meant. “You – you left the morning after _I_ left? Then—”

“Not directly, I suppose. Thorin followed me and stopped me – I lost your trail awhile. For all father’s blood, we’re not trackers, not all that much. We can, of course – we’re predators. But long-term trackers? At the pace you went? Because you were always a faster runner than I was, always.”

“Thorin followed you? _Stopped_ you?”

Fili looked at him, then looked around. “Please, Kili. Please sit.”

With a sigh, Kili rubbed the back of his neck and glanced around. “Fili, I can’t—”

“Please.”

Kili glanced about the bare room, and finally dragged the wooden box over after setting the pack against the wall. Sitting down at the table, he folded his arms against the flat surface and sighed. “What?”

“I’ve been looking for you. Got lost a bit, went further south than I think you did. Came back up, realized there was only one place that had dwarves. Most of the time it took was looking for your town.”

“You went—” Kili cut himself off, staring wide-eyed at Fili.

Fili met his gaze.

Muttering oaths under his breath, Kili shoved up off the table and moved over to the oven. “I don’t – Fili, I understand, I get it, I mean, it hurt, the looks the company gave me, the things muttered behind my back, but I _understand_ and I made the decision to not make it a problem.”

“That wasn’t _my_ decision, and you don’t get to make it for me. You _don’t_.”

Kili took the pot off the oven and set it on the grate. “You will be king, Fili.”

“And therefore, _I_ get to make the rules, and I say I will rule with you by my side or I will not rule at all.”

Kili stared into the bubbling pot. “Thorin agreed to this?”

“Yes.” There was heat against Kili’s back – Fili, standing there. “Kili? I think dinner can wait.”

“I only have one bed, and it is very small. I made it, myself.”

“Yes.” Fili’s forehead brushed the back of Kili’s shoulder. “You – Kili, you never cease to amaze me. You are – the most resourceful, the best equipped – I need _you_ , Kili. I always have.”

 

***

 

Kili may not have stopped hearing the whispers behind his back, and Dain never stopped looking at him contemptuously, but when push came to shove, he knew that his brother and uncle would stand by his side, and he never once doubted his place by their side again. And even if his black coat made most of the citizens of Erebor take a second glance, and some of the elders still flinched and made the sign against bad luck against their chest, well…

He knew Fili would spend months of his life, moving from small town to small town, tracking him down. And he knew Thorin would sanction such a move.

And that, more than anything, kept his head high and his spirits light.

(Enough that soon enough, Erebor’s guards and nobility knew exactly how inventive Kili could be at pranking.)


End file.
